The teleportation had left Victor visibly shaken, and it had made him accept my excuse — that the door had transported us — more easily than expected. To his credit, he recovered quickly, scanning the cemetery for any threats. After concluding that the robots hadn’t followed, he’d beckoned me towards a large scrap pile.
I blinked, my finger slipping on the piano keys. The resulting note was jarringly loud, and we both winced. We were safe enough in this abandoned building, but patrols were everywhere. I carefully eased my hand from the instrument and turned, looking at Victor.
“Is it time?”
I still didn’t have my magic yet, but the last few days had been so busy, I surprisingly hadn’t had much time to think about it. Even now, when I was considering it, it was more of a dull ache than anything. I’d been more irritable, of course, but…I was surviving. I thought I’d die without magic, but it seemed life had other plans.
I lifted my protesting leg with a groan and kicked feebly at the wooden post. I’d been bruised more times than I could count by that stupid thing — each kick sent the wooden posts spinning towards me at ferocious speed and, if I didn’t dodge correctly, I was hit. I’d managed to dodge it maybe…oh, zero times.
The future smelled like burning metal. The air, which was a horrid, sick-looking off-yellow, was thick with smog, and my first few breaths were labored as I struggled to get used to the new environment.
Although the buildings were mostly who I remembered it, everything was considerably more…dismal. Maybe my outlook had just changed?
I looked at the sizable heap of scraps and shook my head. No, not even my pessimism could be responsible for this; the time man was right — times had changed. That, of course, made me all the more worried for my sister. Things had been bad enough even without the yellow sky.